Page 44 of Princess of Thieves

And against every ounce of my better judgment, I stop.

For a moment, he says nothing.

“I... yeah,” he lets out at last. “Talk to you. Now. It’s too late, and it’s too little, I know that, but—” He exhales, a heavy sigh. “I didn’t think you’d ever be back. Didn’t think I’d ever have to deal with this, really. And now that we got close to losing you a second time...”

He glances at Will, then back at me.

“Please,” he says, his voice suddenly raspy. “Just sit for a second.”

My knees bend before I realize what’s happening, and I sink into an armchair. His expression has completely changed from just a moment ago. Instead of focused, it’s contrite. He presses his lips together, rubs under his eyes, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he says. “I’m not really accustomed to giving apologies.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Will comments. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you say you’re sorry for a single thing in your life.”

“Never had anything I was really sorry about,” Rob snaps, glaring at him. “I know what I’m about, and I don’t make mistakes. Or at least, I didn’t think I did.”

“You could start,” I say shortly, “by saying you’re actually sorry. Right?”

Rob closes his eyes, nods his head, and swallows. When he opens them again, he says, “I’m sorry, Maren.”

It sounds sincere—or as sincere as you can be using pathetic little words to make up for something as monumental as death, as destruction, as throwing someone’s life entirely off course.

And yet, even though it’s what I’ve been dying to hear, what I’ve been desperate for, what I’ve been lusting after even more than all four of them, it doesn’t quite feel like enough, and that scares me. I want it to be enough. I want to be able to forgive him. But...

“He died,” I say. “He fucking died in a horrible, painful way. And he was addicted. And you made that happen. You—”

“I didn’tmake it all happen, Maren,” Rob rushes in. “I wasn’t the one who got him hooked or anything like that. I was low-level, a kid taking over for someone—you have to understand—”

Rage bubbles in my chest. “No, I don’t have to understand,” I bite out. “Why are you making excuses? Why are you equivocating? You sold him drugs. He got high. He crashed his car and died. He left me an orphan. This isn’t complicated. This isn’t something you can charm your way out of or make up some clever web of lies about. The facts are pretty fucking simple, Rob, and if you’re too stupid to understand that, then I don’t know why I’m even here listening to you.”

Rob’s eyes widen. He opens his mouth, then shuts it and blows out a breath through both nostrils, hard.

“You’re right.”

Tears are welling in my eyes, hot and painful, and I don’t even realize it until one trickles out of the corner and down my cheek.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Fuck. Everything could have been so different.”

For some reason, I think of all the things Guy said to me—how I was supposed to have a different life, supposed to be like him, supposed to be rich and happy and comfortable and unbothered. And instead, I’m basically the opposite of all those things.

“Maren, I—” Rob glances at Will, like he’s looking for support. Will folds his arms, his face deadly serious, and nods at him. Something unspoken passes between them, and Rob seems to get the message.

He crouches, getting down on his knees before me on the floor. The whole gesture of it—the sudden humility, the pain I can see in his face when he looks up at me—actually takes my breath away. I swipe away the tear, swallow hard, and stare him in the face. I’m not going to be weak, but I’m not going to be cruel, either.

“I’m listening,” I say.

“It was my fault,” Rob says. “And all I have to say is that I was a stupid kid. I didn’t know—I was stupid.”

“Stupid is right,” Will mutters.

I dig my teeth into my lower lip. “Why did you do it?” I ask.

“I didn’t know he was your dad,” Rob says. “I didn’t know—”

“That’s not what I mean,” I interrupt, firm. “You knew he wassomeone. You knew he was a person. You knew, presumably, he had a life and a family and people who cared about him.” I pause to suck in a breath. Rob’s eyes cast down to the ground, and my heart lurches. “Didn’t you?” I ask.

“I didn’t think about it,” Rob says, his voice a low mumble. “It wasn’t like that.”

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